


Mischief and Ice

by sserpente



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abduction, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Blood, Dom Loki (Marvel), Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Injury, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Jotunn | Frost Giant, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Mentions of Rape, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Endgame, Sexual Submission, Slavery, Smut, Submission, Violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of ill parent, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2019-11-12 11:43:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18010310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sserpente/pseuds/sserpente
Summary: Thanos’ cruel attempt to wipe out half of the universe failed and the titan is dead; but his actions came with grave consequences. Tears and cracks in the universe, all across space and time formed wormholes within the nine realms and beyond, giving old enemies a vicious opportunity to strike again. When the Jötuns invade Earth and the Avengers assemble to defend the planet once again, it is the help of none other than the former war criminal Loki they are reliant upon to drive the icy warriors back to their own realm. But then the God of Mischief encounters a young woman abandoned in the cold—your body mangled and altered with Jötun blood, a lab rat to the Frost Giants. He decides to take you with him and nurse you back to health, unable to comprehend the confusing affection he begins to harbour for you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The synopsis partially sounds like a Doctor Who episode. *giggles* Here goes another (pretty dark) story I have been meaning to write, based on a dream I had once. It was supposed to be a Oneshot but as previously announced I wanted to do so much more with it so I simply kept writing. Have fun reading, my lovelies!

The digital map Tony had programmed spread over the entire table, mountains, hills and buildings towering up to the ceiling where they flickered slightly. White dots covered the spots in question, marking the places they had already taken, its people in great danger. There were too many of them—and it was enough reason to be concerned.

Steve Roger’s coffee had gone cold. He scratched his chin with a deepening frown, flicking through the many pages of his briefing pack as he sat at the table. There he had been, killing time, frustration and energy in the gym, thinking it was all _over_ , that his days in the compound were numbered.

“How could this even happen?” Eventually, he lifted his head to come to terms with his new reality. Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff, James Rhodes, Stephen Strange. They were all here, back and united again to face a new threat, a new foe to protect this world from.

“When Thanos meddled with the universe, he manipulated space and time repeatedly before we could overpower him. He… seemed to have caused wormholes that messed with all path ways across the universe. The Frost Giants must have found one of them… and learned quickly how to make use of them.” Stephen replied. His fingers were fondling one of his gloves as he let his gaze roam over the map once more all the while his red cape attempted to struggle free from where he was sitting on it. They had all ceased to pay any attention to it by now—not after everything they had seen and witnessed.

The Jötuns had already invaded and successfully taken Greenland and quite recently Iceland, building their strength where cold weather and icy conditions would make drowning an entire civilisation in blood, ice and fear even easier. Nature had already submitted to the cruel race… the people… not so much.

Iceland had managed to send a distress call before the Frost Giants took over, a distress call which had landed right in Tony Stark’s office. Nick Fury and SHIELD had been informed, the Avengers had assembled yet again.

Soon, they would all be back on the battlefield now, a well-deserved retirement postponed. At least, so they knew, what they did was for the good of humanity.

“Tell Thor to move his ass here at once,” the billionaire tossed in darkly when the room drowned in silence. “He’s dealt with these ice cubes before.”

Doctor Strange nodded, clearing his throat as he stood. It would have been only a matter of time for him to contact the God of Thunder anyway. Besides, he understood the gravity of the threats unfolding up in the North. Quickly, his fingers drew complex patterns into the air, sending orange sparks flying through the room. Then, he stepped through. The portal snapped shut behind him quickly.

Bucky groaned, burying his face in his sleeves. “Do we ever get a break?” He complained loudly. Steve only shrugged. His comment was meant to lighten the mood. Truthfully, it did not even work on himself.

* * *

Thor had settled down in Norway, along with what was left of the Asgardian population. Ruling as their king, he had helped choosing an abandoned and quiet patch of land to grow a new civilisation far away from humans—the very place Odin had chosen for his last destination. Charms and modern technology, developed by the most sophisticated scientists of Asgard hid the village reliably from curious mortals and it was peace and compromise that made their presence on Earth possible.

Unless you knew how to enter this place, it would be hidden from your view like an invisible blanket wrapped around the entire village.

Naturally, Thor had taken all the credit, yet it was him, Loki, who had aided the Asgardians with his ancient knowledge—seidr which no other than Frigga herself had taught him. _He_ had sacrificed his own life in a brave attempt to save the universe from the one being that had tormented him for years, making him compliant for his causes. _He_ was a saviour, a hero and still… no one was willing to acknowledge him. Einherjars and few citizens respected him solely because of his royal status, nothing had changed about that. Others were still disgusted by having a Frost Giant living among them, a god who had attempted to invade and rule another realm because of an alleged lust for power—and one who had imitated the Allfather himself when all he had wanted was to protect himself from Thanos.

After a long-awaited while, his own brother, at the very least, had begun to appreciate his actions and efforts. He knew that Thor would never fully comprehend his self, just like he knew that no one else ever would either. Not since his mother died.

Sighing, he stood, abandoning the small trinket he had been tossing in the air repeatedly, and made his way to the make-shift throne room. He could hear the Asgardians mutter and whisper to themselves, discussing Thor’s unexpected visitor quietly.

Loki raised his eyebrows. Visitor? Well, he might not be king but any royal matters were still his business too. He _was_ the prince of Asgard, after all.

* * *

“That’s impossible. The Frost Giants are trapped in their own realm, the source of their power was taken from them by my father centuries ago!” Not just taken. When Asgard was destroyed during Ragnarok, the casket of Ancient Winters had vaporised along with it. Thor was furious. Gnashing his teeth, he paced up and down the room with clenched fists.

Ah, Frost Giants. Loki’s face distorted for just a split second. Old family, old acquaintances, old heritage—nothing to be proud of, nothing to be gained from ruling a cold and dead realm inhabited by monstrous warriors who longed to drown the nine worlds in ice. They were not his favourite enemies to deal with. But he was a hero now, was he not? Another chance to prove himself, if not for his own self-satisfactory needs.

“And yet they are here, Thor.” Doctor Strange replied calmly. “We must drive them back to their own realm before they do any permanent damage to our planet.” He relinquished adding that this ship had already sailed. The universe had only just risen again, the cracks and tears visible and hazardous proof of its last destructive battle.

The God of Thunder took a deep breath, pondering over what would be the best actions to take. He eyed his visitor as if he were the reason for this new-found misery. He had not yet forgotten his last encounter with the Jötuns, back when he had lusted for battles, war and bloodshed. The smug, self-indulgent and arrogant part of him was still lurking within him, so Loki knew. Jane had brought out the best in him and when she left him for good, he had, partially, begun to fall back into old patterns.

“If they have taken Greenland and Iceland, Norway might be next.” He finally said matter-of-factly. “We need to do something _now_.”

Doctor Strange nodded unfazed.

“Take us back to the compound. I’ll find a way to stop them and if it’s the last thing I do…” He roared.

But Stephen overheard his courageous promise. He raised an eyebrow, already expecting what would follow when he considered his words. He had hoped the God of Thunder would leave his mischievous adopted brother in Norway, far away from where he could cause any trouble.

“Us?” He still probed.

“I know what you’re thinking, wizard. But Loki is a Frost Giant himself, I will need his help. He is my brother. He died for me not long ago.” Loki pursed his lips. _Yes, I am your brother, Thor._ He was a fool for thinking he, Loki, had ever stopped loving him even after everything they had been through together. Trust was a dangerous feeling, he could tell Thor would never fully grant it to him—but neither would he. They were fine as they were right now. Loki would be satisfied if this was all he would ever get out of their _brotherly_ relationship.

Doctor Strange sighed, causing him to roll his eyes. “Fine… but if he puts one toe out of line, I’ll—“

“You will what?” The God of Mischief hissed, lifting his chin proudly as stepped out of his hiding place and entered the room.

Thor breathed out audibly. Clearly, he had overheard the entire conversation, there was no need to ask; but unlike his brother, Loki already had a plan.


	2. Chapter 2

Stepping through a make-shift portal was hardly a problem, travelling by Tesseract or Bifrost had proven to be a lot more draining. The challenge was to put up with all the hostile glares the Avengers shot him like daggers when they caught sight of him, following suit after Thor.

He had to admit, Strange was skilled—he conceded him talent, yet he was hardly impressed. After all, he had been doing this for centuries. Last time, the mortal wizard had merely caught him off guard. Loki would not let that happen again.

“So… Frost Giants,” Thor began with a forced smile, sitting down on the chair reserved for him during meetings almost as if he had never left the compound. Loki simply stood, clasping his hands behind his back. There was no reason to get comfortable around these people. Especially Tony looked like he was going to shoot him any moment and Doctor Strange, joining the group at the table after the portal snapped shut behind him, steered clear of the God of Mischief anyway, fuelling the other’s suspicion even further.

“It’s good to see you, Point Break. But why the hell did you bring Reindeer Games?” Tony interrupted him harshly.

Loki only smirked as he lifted his arms in false defeat. Infuriating them had amused him then and it still amused him now. Nothing was ever going to change about this. He was not fond of his own past, and the reputation his own family had besieged him with. There was nothing to be proud of, not really. But, he had begun to come to terms with it. So what was wrong about having a little fun? A malicious smile worked wonders to hide a wounded and tainted heart.

“Look, Loki is…” Thor hesitated. Why did he hesitate? The world knew by now he was not really Asgardian. The God of Mischief sighed. “He knows the Jötuns a lot better than I do.”

Tony opened his mouth to protest, followed by Natasha raising an eyebrow at him.

“Right… next thing we know he sets them against us.”

This time, Loki actually chuckled quietly, almost surprised by himself. He had fought so much in the last couple of years, survived quarrels with his brother, won against the Goddess of Death and lastly, helped to kill the titan who had scarred him for life… and there was absolutely no reason for him to still bother with all the people who had slashed his vulnerable heart not so long ago; not then and not now. Still… that did not mean he could not vex them when it felt like cooling medicine down his throat.

“You are not quite wrong, Agent Romanoff.” His blue glance wandered over to Thor who watched his every movement with widened eyes.

“What are you saying?” He roared.

“I am the rightful king of Jötunheim.”

The entire room fell silent. One could practically hear them all trying to digest what he had just said. Eventually, Thor spoke up again, leaning against the table in the process.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He stated dryly.

“A long time ago, we have tried _your_ method. Do you recall how your blind lust for battle ended?” He paused, his wicked grin widening. “Brother… do you not trust me?”

Bruce scoffed. “That’s a trick question, right?”

Oh, it was. _Never trust the God of Mischief_. Loki was curious as to what it would feel like to be trusted for once, yet he felt no desire whatsoever to make up with the self-proclaimed superheroes.

“Perhaps it is about time I claim the throne.”

“Okay.” Tony spat. “What’s your plan? If it involves killing or any kind of narcissistic self-glorification, I’m going to kick you all the way back to Norway myself.”

Sighing, Loki rolled his eyes. Stark was the one talking.

“Please… enlighten me. Have _you_ got a plan? Your metal armour will be entirely useless against the Jötuns, Stark, they would freeze the parts within mere seconds. What is your strategy?”

Steve was the only one willing to reply. Morally, the soldier out of time was perhaps the only one thinking rationally when it came to him. He could not exactly say that he liked him but at the very least, Loki was able to tolerate him.

“We should be headed to Norway right now. If they attack, without us the people will stand no chance.”

“Then what?” Loki probed, clearly unimpressed. “What about the places they have already taken? You are suggesting what has been on Thor’s mind since he first laid hand on his hammer—to hurl yourself into battle and strike where they will be at their strongest. The Jötuns will send their fiercest warriors to Norway, rest assured Asgard will defend it but their _leaders_ … their leaders will hide, cowardly, in the background.”

“How would you know?” Tony snapped. In response, the God of Mischief turned straight to Thor.

“Laufey ruled Jötunheim for decades. The Frost Giants would not take kindly in leaders and commanders changing their utmost principles. I watched them for a long time, learned how they operate, remember? They do not like surprises.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms with a thoughtful expression. “So what do you suggest?”

“I suggest we take the war where _we_ want it to be.”

* * *

_They have abandoned their palace and they left me behind to die._ Was it mercy… or was it a worse fate they had tossed you into? You had run out of edibles two days ago. Covered in frost bites, bruises and other injuries but most importantly half frozen, you were surprised you still managed to melt the ice between your hands to drink some water.

No. Death _would_ be mercy and yet, you did not want to perish. If only you had listened to your brother.

 _Come home early_ , he had said. _Mum’s making supper_ , he had said. You didn’t know whether they were still alive. Your mum suffered from an incurable illness. She was weak, bed-ridden for the most part but she loved cooking more than anything in this world. Whenever she felt energised enough, she would prepare gorgeous and delicious meals for you all.

You should have come so you would be together now. You should have screamed at your boss and insisted on leaving. It wasn’t like you were getting paid for all the extra hours he forced on you… but you still needed the money on your bank account every month, if anything to pay your mother’s medical bills—you couldn’t risk getting fired.

What had happened to the rest of the country, you did not know. Iceland was fairly small compared to other places, the chances there was help on the way were ridiculously little. Maybe they were all dead. Maybe _you_ had gotten _lucky_.

You scoffed, your breath blowing white fog into the cold air around you. Your will to live was strong but you had long bent to the Frost Giant’s cruel rules, learnt not to try and run away or lash out and fight back. Compared to them, you were tiny, fragile.

The worst part, however, had not been when they had impaled you with their ice cold cocks and filled you with their chilly seed, not the many bruises they had inflicted on you and not how they had made you bathe in a tub full of cold water and ice as a punishment or simply for their amusement but the many times they had injected you with their blood, watching you wither away.

They had told you many things—but they had never told you why they would attempt to break your body. Instead… they had simply _done_ it.

It was short of a miracle you were not dead yet but if no one found you soon, then you would be.

* * *

Tony cursed quietly, earning himself a half-hearted scolding from Steve as he flew over the ocean, leading the quinjet to its first destination—Iceland. Natasha had been forced to switch off the routing signals. There was no need to give away their position, after all. What they had on their side was the element of surprise. That, and Loki’s ridiculous but unfortunately also very plausible plan.

Who was he to trust the one man who had caused his PTSD?

Once they had gotten suited up and ready to leave, for none of them wanted to lose any more time, he had stopped Loki with a scowl, grabbing his upper arm. The God of Mischief’s growl had been deadly.

“Why are you doing this, really?” Tony had inquired quietly. “Helping us, I mean. Surely not from the kindness of your heart…?”

Loki had had the audacity to smile—maliciously.

He trusted  _Thor_ —and if Thor believed that taking Loki on a mission and putting their lives into his hands was a good idea… he sighed. Loki had hoodwinked, betrayed and fooled his own brother quite a few times. No… it was still a bad idea and he doubted that he would make it out alive without having to kill Loki slowly at some point.

“What exactly are we looking for, Reindeer Games?” He started languidly after they had landed. Natasha was loading her guns—silent clicks echoing through the ice cold air—Bucky was adjusting his metal arm, Steve was fixing his shield and even Thor’s lightnings crackled through his new weapon. They all expected a fight upon their arrival and they were not entirely wrong.

The Frost Giants had left traces. It was almost beautiful. The rivers, houses, bushes, trees and streets, everything was frozen and glittering and glistening in the weak sunlight. Loki knew they must have established themselves a little empire and now abandoned it to hunt their next big prize.

“Look around you,” he explained impatiently. “Does this look like a battlefield to you? It is not. Mortals are no match for Jötuns and they knew this. Anything that is made of ice and moves—kill it. What we are searching for are their headquarters. A place for them to hide while the lower among them do the dirty work.” It did not sound much different from how Odin had ruled. Loki suppressed a scoff. It was a trait the dead king had passed on to his only biological son. He, Loki, was the brains, Thor was only the muscles. _Some things would never change…_

“So what do we do?” Wanda’s voice cut through the air, her Eastern European accent heavier than usual. He had by now noticed it did so whenever she was upset or nervous. Nothing Loki should be worried about as long as she kept her powers in control.

“We split up.” Thor announced loudly before Loki had a chance to reply. But yes. Working in solitude was what the God of Mischief had learned to prefer when the only person he could ever truly rely on was himself. Besides, upon an encounter with another Jötun, he would not have to dread turning all blue and monstrous in front of the Avengers—they mistrusted him as is.

There were no castles in Iceland, not really. But the God of Mischief, knowing exactly what to pay attention to, soon found what he was looking for. It was an old ruin, a former farm house—and it was the perfect place for starting an icy kingdom. The first of many places to find Jötun guards, councillors or even one of their leaders.

“I found something,” he announced dryly, still getting used to the little headset device that enabled him to communicate with the Avengers. “Stay where you are, I am going in first.”

“Hold on a second, Reindeer Games. What’s your location?”

But he had already turned the annoying piece of electronics off. It would only distract him, especially if he was forced to listen to Stark’s dull voice. Rolling his eyes, he approached the frozen farm house and pushed open the door, not even flinching when his skin made contact with the ice cold doorknob. Then, he stepped inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, make sure to head over to my Tumblr (@sserpente) for stories. ♥


	3. Chapter 3

Your human instincts kicked in the moment you heard someone entering the farm house, the urge to hide growing. What if they had come back now to kill you or even worse, torment you some more? There was no one close within miles. Who else could possibly know about this place? Was it another refugee, someone else who survived the invasion of the Frost Giants?

Hope mixed with pure terror, clawing at your guts aggressively. You were worn out, hungry and tired. There was no energy left in your body to feel such emotions.

Swallowing thickly, you wrapped your arms around your body and sneaked out of the frozen bedroom upstairs into the hallway where you carefully, quietly, peeked over the rail, holding on to the cold metal to prevent yourself from slipping.

There was a man standing there. Tall, with raven hair, a stern expression and icy blue eyes. He was handsome… beautiful even—but most importantly, he was not _blue_.

Almost fascinated, you watched him explore the ground floor, gaping into the frozen rooms and around the corners, always on high alert. He looked like someone who would be able to protect you. Someone who would take care of you and defend you with his life, you did not have to see him fight and kill for that.

Still, there was something about the stranger you could not quite put your finger on, your tortured gut screaming at you to run from him.

For some peculiar reason you seemed to have developed a radar—or perhaps it was the chilly Jötun blood pumping through your veins—Frost Giants were pure evil and you could usually sense when one of them approached to harm you. He did not look like a Frost Giant though. He looked… scarred.

Holding your breath with wide eyes, you took a step back. Maybe, if you were lucky, he would quickly notice the house was but empty, abandoned. A cold and dead reminder of the cruelty of the alien race that had invaded your country…

The wooden floorboard underneath your bare feet screeched when you stepped in a puddle of molten ice, freezing in the process. You flinched the moment the stranger’s cool, calculating and scrutinising blue eyes locked with yours.

Your heart skipped a beat. Gasping for air, you were forced back into the very role they Jötuns had pushed you into. You were prey again. You were prey and the stranger was your predator, ready to devour you. You didn’t know what it was that he wanted from you—whether the Frost Giants had sent him to kill you and get rid of their mistake or his own, wicked curiosity had brought him here. What he would do to you if he got you all to himself.

The first floor wasn’t at all spacious. There were only three rooms and a narrow hallway. Two bedrooms, one of which you had been hiding in, a storage room full of eerie old farming tools and a bathroom without any water supply.

Your chances of escape were ridiculously little. Unless you jumped out of a window and got yourself killed in the process, he would have you cornered soon.

Panicking, you burst into one of the bedrooms, eyes darting around frantically in search for a place to hide. Under the bed? He would be able to tell immediately. The wardrobe? He would most likely open it first.

You bit your lower lip so hard you could taste blood as you ran out of options, fearing that this was how your life would end now. But then, your gaze found the little balcony. The windows in the bedroom were partially broken, it would be easy to open them. Of course, it was no real balcony but the platform would be broad enough for you to press yourself against the wall until the stranger gave up and left. Unless… unless he decided to stay.

 _No._ Your heart almost leaped out of your chest when you heard his calm and threatening footsteps behind you, almost as if he had taken all the time in the world to chase you. Quickly, you lunched forward and towards the window, right when he turned around the corner and spotted you.

You whined, turning around so fast you slipped on the ice, your elbow colliding with the window sill painfully before you sank to the ground, shaking so badly you feared your brain would shut down and let you die. Within the matter of a second, the raven haired stranger had you cornered.

* * *

Loki had jumped after you the moment he had realised your attempted flight. Whoever you were, you might know something about the Frost Giants and their next moves… He could tell you posed no threat to him. In the worst case scenario, he would have to kill you because they had brainwashed you to work for them—unless you had sworn your loyalty to them out of your own free will. Disgust washed over him.

Looming over you like an executor, hatred filled his body as he looked at the bluish veins standing out under your pale skin, and the slight hint of red in your eyes. You were cold to the touch when he grabbed your upper arm to heave you back on your feet, he could feel there was a lack of body heat clinging onto you like a thin, invisible layer of ice. _Oh yes._ Hatred for this race he had been raised to despise only to find out he was of their kind, abandoned as an infant.

And yet… when he looked into your eyes, your softness and innocence almost knocked him back. Frowning, he tilted his head and stepped closer, determined to examine your mind rather than your mangled Jötun body.

“Where are they?” He demanded to know, his smooth and dark voice sending shivers up and down your spine. He sounded intimidating, allowing no contradiction—and predicting that there would be pain if you refused to cooperate.

“T-they… l-left…” You were shaking, barely able to talk. There was no point in showing any hostility. You were done fighting your tormentors… not until you had regained your strength to do so.

“Left where? Why did they leave you behind?”

 _Because I am dying…_ Swallowing thickly, you attempted to shrug. You failed pathetically but the stranger did not let go, bombarding you with even more questions you were all unable to answer.

“What are you? You do not strike me as the typical kind of monster you would find in the cold of Jötunheim.”

What would you tell him, after all? Pressing yourself into the wall, you bit your lower lip again, suppressing a sob. “I don’t…. know, I… W-who… are you?” You managed to whisper, looking up at him as if pleading for mercy, not knowing if he would grant it to you. “A-are you h-here… to k-kill me?”

While you expected him to give you a deadly glare, he instead began to smirk. Two of his long fingers came up to lift your chin for him to look you in the eye, sending waves of electricity through your body. And finally, he let go of your arm again. His touch was numbing in the most delicious ways, ways your body reacted to and which you did not understand.

“I am Loki, of Asgard. And I am not here to kill you. I will—“

Your eyes widened, making him halt. _Loki… Loki of Asgard… of Jötunheim. The lost prince… Loki was the rightful heir of the throne!_ The Frost Giants had told you about the infamous son stolen away from Laufey all those years ago, by none other than the Asgardian king, Odin Allfather. Before he could finish his sentence, you dropped to your knees, lowering your gaze.

Well, was it not easier to just give in to men and allow them to do with you as they pleased? It wasn’t _right_. But if you wanted to survive here, it was the only thing to do… for now.

“You… y-you are the r-rightful king. I-I’m s-sorry, I c-couldn’t h-have k-known…”

Loki narrowed his eyes at you, utter confusion prominent on his face. It should feel right. He should be _happy_. Finally, there was a mortal woman willingly kneeling before him to show him the respect, awe and admiration he deserved by birth right.

So why wasn’t he? Why did it feel so wrong to have this helpless, freezing and terrified girl cowering at his feet? For the first time in a long while, compassion spread in his cold chest, warming his tainted heart which he had locked away so well to heal. This woman—whatever they had done to you—was in need of his protection, not his superiority.

“Get up,” he snarled before he could change his mind. “I am not _your king._ ”

“Y-you a-are. Y-you are t-the rightful k-king of J-Jötunheim!”

You were right, of course—what he preferred to learn instead, however, was how you, or the Frost Giants for that matter, had found out about his heritage in the first place. Back when he killed Laufey, not even he had known. That was certainly something he would have to look into. But for now, you were his priority.

“That I am…” He murmured absentmindedly, pulling you back on your feet. “What did they do to you?” Fascination hid in his smooth voice, combined with tragic condolescence. He did not need an answer from you, not quite. Pure terror was reflecting in your eyes when his gaze met yours once more, his long fingers coming up to lightly touch your reddened cheeks.

Loki was not cruel, he never had been. He knew to protect his pain, to hide his vulnerability when necessary and he did not hesitate to strike back like a wounded snake when needed. Mortals _were_ beneath him but not for the same reasons Odin dismissed them as lowly creatures. They were merely… weak, naïve, _petty_. Their intelligence was visionary but limited, their own ignorance digging them their graves and their lives… so sweet and short. That was why he did not bother. That was why he refused to befriend them like Thor was in the habit of doing.

And yet, whatever it was he saw in your (Y/E/C) eyes, sparkling mysteriously as you looked up at him devotedly, with salty tears streaming down your face, he knew you would be different. He just might overthrow his own principles just this once. Loki nodded. A gesture he himself did barely notice, let alone his opposite. He would help you.

“I believe there is a lot more explaining you will have to do for me. But for now, my little dove, you are coming with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, make sure to head over to my Tumblr (@sserpente) for more stories. ♥


	4. Chapter 4

Quite obviously, you had never been on a quinjet before. Entering the metal monstrosity felt intimidating and frightening. Loki had tilted his head, eyeing you with a thoughtful gaze. You could tell he considered carrying you—how, you did not want to know.

His hand jerked slightly towards you, presumably, to wrap his fingers around your cold wrist yet again. Only the fraction of a second later, however, he refrained and instead simply tilted his head—a mute demand to get you moving. Swallowing thickly, you obeyed, feeling Loki’s scrutinising gaze staring daggers at your back all the while you were marching through the icy coldness of Iceland. Snow, nothing but snow. Nothing but frozen loneliness.

You never saw how Loki was ready and on high alert to catch you every time you stumbled, your naked feet leaving, compared to his big boots, only tiny footsteps on the white path before you, taking you to yet another different life. Would this one be kind to you? There was a chance, after all, that he would decide to kill you anyway, in the end. But then, when you had looked straight into his icy blue eyes, you had felt hope. Hope that maybe there was no reason for your life to end anytime soon.

Loki soon began to speak into a little ear piece device, connecting him to god knew who. He didn’t work alone then. He was here to put an end to the Frost Giant’s reign of terror, this much you aware of…

Your eyes widened, lips parting when you suddenly came face to face with the _Avengers,_ waiting impatiently in front of the quinjet.

The Jötuns had told you about them, too, about the _threat_ they posed to their cause. Ever since then, you had hoped, sincerely, that they would come to your rescue, to stop this icy madness from unfolding.

Swallowing thickly, you did as Loki motioned and climbed on board.

Now, you were not so sure. All but a few of them shot you suspicious and disgusted looks, meeting you with utter mistrust. You were not the only one though. The glares they greeted Loki with were equally cold—colder than the ice the Jötuns had frozen this country with.

Natasha Romanoff raised an eyebrow just as the engines hummed to life, sending a low rumble and vibrations through all the tons of metal. You took it as a good sign. Had they viewed you as a real threat, surely, they would have assassinated you already.

“Who is that?”

“She is harmless.” Loki snapped instead of answering her question. You gasped quietly when you felt his palm on the small of your back, slightly pushing you towards a dimly lit corner. _Of course._ He had never asked for your name. To him, you were a stranger, a nameless girl, an object, a whore, a…

Suppressing a sob, you sank down on the cushioned seat, hugging your knees to your chest in an instant. You were still shaking, even though the sudden warmth inside the quinjet almost had you moan pleasurably.

Loki joined you as soon as he was done watching you thoughtfully—and as soon as he had won the bitter stare down contest between him and the Russian assassin.

Seemingly out of nowhere, he conjured up a soft blanket, handing it to you mutely. Your mouth fell open. What would he expect in return for this gift? After your capture you had learned quickly that for every act of kindness, the Jötuns wished for something brutal in return. They had laughed upon making you throw up the few bites of edible food they had thrown at you before shoving their long and ice cold cocks down your throat until the hot tears streaming down your face warmed your cheeks.

Shuddering at the memory, you stared at the piece of fabric as if it were the cause of your suffering, as if you were scared of it. Eventually, you shook your head.

Loki frowned, taking a deep breath. He was struggling with his patience, struggling to keep his composure… to not beat you or ravish you, you had not quite figured out yet. It was probably both?

You flinched when he unfolded the blanket himself and wrapped it around your shoulders to keep you warm. It did little to stop your shivering but at the very least, you managed to bite your teeth so hard you tasted blood, bringing tears to your eyes.

“Loki? What’s going on?” Thor uttered quietly. Loki only shook his head.

“Later, brother. She is terrified as is.”

So this was Thor. The Thunderer, the God of Thunder, one of the greatest enemies of the Jötuns, the Giant slayer. He was handsome. Not like Loki—Loki was slender and elegant, mysterious and dark. Thor… Thor was the kind of man you would make a male Barbie doll of.

Blinking, you shook your head, focusing your thoughts back to what was important.

It couldn’t be, did he want _nothing_ in return? The Jötuns had not hesitated to fuck you in front of their comrades, would Loki? You had spent so much time with them you hardly remembered what anyone else would do. What a civilised people would do.

But when Loki still didn’t make a move, you sobbed, both so relieved and so anxious you simply leaned into him, closing your eyes all the while crying silently. The God of Mischief remained silent.

* * *

After you had landed—a devastating and silent journey on which you had not dared to utter a single word—Loki brought you straight into one of the huge bathrooms in the compound, not leaving you any time to admire your new surroundings. The Avengers compound was _huge_ , imposing.

“Hey, wait up, where are you taking her? Who the hell is this? We have to question her!” Tony bellowed. “Happy, follow them. I swear to God, Point Break, I _will_ strangle him. What made you think he could work with us again?”

“Stark…” You did not hear the rest.

Happy was a broad security staff member, Tony’s personal bodyguard, as you learned mere moments after. This time, Loki did not hesitate to grab your arm, dragging you with him firmly but not violently. Once you had reached one of the bathrooms, he slammed the door shut in front of Happy’s face.

“Now… let’s have a proper look at you, shall we, little dove?” _Little dove…_ you liked what he called you. It sounded… gentle, like he was caressing your presence. You almost snorted. The king of Jötunheim… caressing _your_ presence.

You did not object when he undressed you, discarding those dirty clothes on your body and tossing them on the tiles carelessly.

Only a few months back you would have attempted to cover yourself, ashamed and too timid to let a stranger look at your naked skin in such a scrutinising manner. There was no need for it now, not anymore. Not after all the tortures, the rape, the experiments… you swallowed thickly, hot tears beginning to worsen your sight. There was no guarantee Loki would not do the same to you now, even after his tenderness on the quinjet. He _was_ their king, after all. And as of now, you were _his_ property.

Loki’s gaze was indeed scrutinising. Inch by inch, he examined your mangled body, noticing more of those familiar ridges and bluish veins on and under your skin before he almost automatically focused on your feminine charms. He blinked when he focused on your breasts, his palms itching as if they longed to find out what it would feel like to cup them and rub his thumbs over those hardened nipples of yours. He imagined trailing his fingers down your stomach and over your pubic mount only to disappear between your folds and feel your heat.

 _Heat…_ taking yet another deep breath, he forced himself to look back up.

You were still shaking—the blanket having indeed done little to nothing to fight the cold spreading within you. He was suspecting by now what they had done to you… the question was just… _why._

Eventually, when his eyes locked with yours, he sensed fascination along with a hint of fear. You seemed to be in thought deeply, with both terror and strength sparkling in your eyes. _That._ That was what he had been looking for. Despite your empty and defeated expression, you were not broken beyond repair. The urge to mend you rose. He desperately wished to help you; and he knew now for certain that he would.

“Whatever is the matter, my dove?” He addressed you teasingly, if anything to diffuse the tension. Your eyes widened. Could you? Could you be so bolt and just… _ask_? He could tell you were pondering. Much to his own surprise, he was desperate to learn what it was.

“W-why a-are you n-not… y-you’re not b-blue, like t-them?” You stammered quietly.

Loki’s smirk was gentle. “Not always. But that is a long story… for another day.”

Nodding, you accepted his answer. You had been audacious enough to bring it up in the first place—there was no need to provoke him any further. Wondering whether ending up with the king of the Frost Giants was going to be worse than your initial, cruel fate you were yet to find out.

Ceasing to put up any resistance at all, you allowed the God of Mischief to approach and lift you up like a bride to heave you into the huge bathtub. He must have let his magic play. Not even Tony Stark could build a bathtub that filled so fast with hot and soothing water it would take only the blinking of an eye. He knew your delicate skin would be able to tolerate the high temperature as long as there was Jötun blood flowing through your veins.

You moaned when the water came in contact with your skin.

For at first, he had only focused on the ridges and the blue veins… now, he quietly examined the other marks the Frost Giants had left on you. There were bruises, blue, yellow and purple, all over you, a few cuts unable to heal properly, for you hissed when the water touched them… and of course, you were incredibly dirty too.

Loki sighed mutely as he summoned a black wash cloth and soaked it until it was dripping wet, the sounds of water drops meeting the surface repeatedly echoing through the warm room. He had manipulated the heat regulation. You would stop freezing now.

Then, carefully, he began to clean you, almost as if he feared to break you. He was worried that if he used his seidr on you to get the job done faster, he would overstrain your stricken body a little too much. All he would do was utter a little healing spell—just enough to heal at least the injuries that could be seen.

You didn’t even flinch when he moved between your legs, studying each of your reactions. You were used to it, after all. Your _private parts_ were no longer private. They were property—and it did not matter whether it was the ice cold hand of a Jötun or Loki’s surprisingly warm hand sneaking between your thighs to touch you there.

The God of Mischief himself, however, suppressed a hiss, his cock twitching painfully in his tight leather trousers upon meeting your innocent gaze for the first time since he had put you in the bathtub. You _were_ downright delicious, a female companion worthy of sharing his bed. Yet it was not only physical attraction that drew him to you, alluring and tempting. It was the fire in your eyes—not the red tint of colour, stains as red as blood reminding him of his own heritage. No… your fire was _raging_ , and it was invisible. He would get into this pretty little head of yours, eventually. He would find out what moved you, what made you laugh, what made you cry… for thus far, all he knew was what made you tremble in fear.

He did not want to stop exploring your petals. You were unnaturally cold, down there, despite the hot water almost singeing his own skin. All he needed to do was clean you from the ruthlessness of his race and then retreat, tending to other parts of your body and yet… yet he lingered for longer than he intended to.

So why… why didn’t you wail and scream and beg him to stop?

“I will not ravish you. You will be safe with me, my little dove.” He murmured, distantly. _Why_ did he say that? It was true, he did not plan to bury himself inside of you, not unless you begged him to… but were you really safe? He was the God of Lies. How could he mean it? By the Norns, he didn’t even know _himself_ if he meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, make sure to head over to my Tumblr (@sserpente) for more stories. ♥


	5. Chapter 5

Loki was reluctant to leave you in the care of the doctors Stark had hired. Much rather would he have hidden you in his own room, far away from curious glances and the puzzled looks of the two questionably competent doctors.

He gnashed his teeth when one of them stood his ground, tilting his head reproachfully.

“You will have to tell us what we are dealing with here, Mr Loki. There is little we can do to help if we are unaware of any symptoms apart from her alarmingly low body temperature.”

“Don’t forget about her red irises.” The second doctor tossed in, carrying a clipboard and a blue biro Loki longed to snap in two as he kept clicking it.

“What _is_ she, Mr Loki?”

“Right now? She is on the verge of dying. She was injected Jötun blood, repeatedly. It altered her DNA and I don’t know yet how badly it was damaged… beyond repair. She needs blood. Human blood.”

His plan was but simple, for there had to be a way to replace the Jötun blood quickly—he had seen this happen before, back on Asgard. One of his mother’s maids had suffered from an illness which had attacked her blood and grown liquid foreign bodies. Blood transfusions had helped to supersede the infection with the help of Frigga’s seidr. And Loki was willing to do the same for you.

“Humans have… different blood types, I’m afraid. It won’t be that easy. Do you… know her blood type?”

Loki frowned and slowly shook his head.

“That’s what I thought.” The doctor with the biro answered mockingly. Loki was about to throw him out of the window.

“We can take a blood sample.” The other doctor then explained matter-of-factly. “Will it… will that work on her?”

“That it should. She is still human. How fast can you get her the type of blood she needs?”

“In case of an emergency… within an hour.”

“Then get it. As much as you can. Then call me immediately. Until then, you make sure she stays warm. Use a heating blanket, whatever you can come up with. She has stopped shivering already, that is a good sign. The heat will help her recover.” He ordered, turning on his heel to leave the infirmary—but not before shooting your unconscious body another worried glance. You had passed out the moment he had removed you from the warming water, the temperature change too much for your body to deal with at the moment.

The way you had hung in his arms, helpless, weak and defenceless… he had felt his cock stir in his leather trousers, demanding to take pleasure from the delicate creature he was carrying. Necrophilia was not his thing. If he ever was going to take you… then you would be wide awake, with his name on your lips as you came for him, clenching around his length to take all of his seed.

He did _not_ want to leave you.

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Mr Loki, you said she has _Jötun_ blood. Wouldn’t any more heat _harm_ her, if anything?”

“No. She was not born a Frost Giant… the transition process was never finalised as her body fought against it like a virus.”

“What if she comes down with a fever then?”

“You call me. _Immediately.”_

The first doctor nodded. “We will contact Mr Stark as soon as the blood has—“

“ _Me_ ,” he growled. “You will contact me.”

Neither of the doctors dared object when he stormed out of the room; forcing himself to leave you behind if only for a short while.

* * *

“So? Who is she, Reindeer Games?”

Loki shook his head slowly. “I don’t know… but nothing special. A young mortal woman unlucky enough to have ended up in the clutches of the Jötuns… they seemed to have kept her for their sole amusement.” Disgust spread in his guts when he spoke the words out loud, his hatred for his own heritage growing even more. To think he had come to terms with being a Jötun, recognising the possibility of ruling the realm… if only he could stop the Frost Giants now and punish them for their stupidity and cruelty towards this poor woman, he would gladly accept the crown.

“But you think she could be useful?” Tony probed.

“Alive? Yes… which is why you will do all you can to keep her so. The Jötuns have injected her with their blood, what for I do not know as of yet. I need to get this blood out of her system as fast as possible or she will die… in a matter of days, at most. Your healers are on it already.” The ice on Jötunheim was different. It was _colder_ , more deadly. There was a reason the realm had been abandoned by Odin so long ago, peace treaties be damned.

“She recognised me as her rightful king.” Loki spoke after a brief pause. Instantly, Thor sat up, frowning at his brother.

“How?”

“I am trying to find out. The question is not why the girl is willing to kneel before me but how the Frost Giants could tell her about me in the first place.”

“You mean they would recognise you as their king and let you guide them?”

“That sounds too good to be true…” Tony murmured.

Thor nodded. “How can they even know then?”

“I told you. Wormholes in space and time.” Doctor Strange mentioned with a shrug. “Until we know more, that would appear to be the most logical explanation.”

Bruce hummed absentmindedly. “Thanos messed with this universe big time, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“God, I hope he didn’t accidentally revive Hitler too…” Bucky tossed in with a disgusted expression.

Thor stood, ignoring the Winter Soldier’s comment. He approached Loki with a serious expression, his gesture all but brotherly when he put his hand on his shoulder and looked him deep in the eye.

“Loki, you have to talk to them. If there is even a slight chance that they will listen to you…”

“Do you truly expect the Jötuns to follow my commands blindly, brother? Do you think it will be that easy?”

“But you said yourself…”

“I _know_ what I said, Thor. I had hoped to… persuade them. And I will. But if they already know and have not bothered yet to seek me out, I shall doubt they will take kindly in my attempt to claim the throne without dealing with any resistance. I fear it will be much more complicated than that.”

“But they haven’t tried to kill you either, isn’t that a good sign?” Bucky asked. Loki gave him a mute glare.

“Loki…”

“Don’t worry, brother. You should know by now I always have a plan.”

He did _not_ have a plan. Not yet. He took it as it came and he always emerged as a winner of some kind—even if all that meant was that he had gotten to survive.

The doctors had kept their word. Roughly seventy minutes later, they returned with enough blood to feed a vampire army and timidly asked for Loki to meet them in the infirmary. He had rushed out without uttering a word to the still suspicious Avengers in the room.

Once he had watched them, scrutinising and strictly, set up the blood transfusion, he chased them out of the room to practise the spell in peace, one he had never cast himself. He hoped to the Norns that he would succeed. You _needed_ to live. You needed to recover… and he needed information.

Yes. He nodded. That was why he did not want you to die. That was easier to believe than everything else. But even if this worked, there was no guarantee you would not remain a distorted hybrid of both human and Frost Giant. Jötun blood was aggressive, after all.

If only he could get you to survive though…

“How is she holding up?” Thor’s voice thundered through the infirmary. Hesitantly, he stuck his head into the room and glanced at your unconscious form on the bed, just when Loki finished casting the spell. Now he would have to be patient. He _hated_ patience.

“She is alive, for now.” He responded quietly, refraining from reaching for your hand under the blanket, a barely visible smile on his lips. You had quite a lot of explaining to do once you had woken up again.

“Can you come join us? We think we might have a plan.”

“So do I,” he shot back, determination cursing through him with a start, his blue eyes on your sleeping form. He had just decided what he would do. “I am going to Jötunheim.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to say hello on Tumblr! @sserpente


	6. Chapter 6

You had been sleeping for two days—to Loki, it felt like an eternity. With every calm and exhausted breath you took in your slumber, he felt his heart beating so fast he feared for it to jump right out of his chest. But the blood and his seidr seemed to come to fruition. Your blood levels were improving slowly but promisingly and very fortunately, you had, as of yet, not come down with a fever. Loki took it as a good sign. He refused to leave your bedside whenever he was not needed downstairs with the Avengers. Even if you were not awake—it felt like an invisible but strong force pulled him towards you, keeping him close to you as if it would hurt to leave you behind. Whatever it was, it was a kind of sorcery he did not understand.

The doctors had organised infusions which would provide you with all necessary nutrients and water for as long as you slept. Loki had watched reluctantly how they had placed a catheter in you and connected your body with a strange, bleeping device he could not name but which visualised your steady heartbeat. He spent hours sitting next to you, watching your motionless form and listening to the constant beeping in the background, indicating you were alright; so far.

He could witness the changes of your body. Your physical wounds, at least, had healed almost completely by now, the dark blue ridges underneath your skin had diminished considerably. Though you were still cold to the touch, Loki was starting to hope your body would manage to fight the Jötun blood and reject it completely, keeping you human and innocent. He longed for you to open your eyes and for him to see their true colour, without the threatening and outright repulsing hint of red gleaming in them.

He would have to be patient. For now, while the Avengers came up with the most aggressive solutions to defeat the Whitewalkers, as Stark had now decided to call them for some dubious reason, one of which included absurd amounts of fire. It would have been amusing, had it not been for the very _real_ threat lurking in the ice. As of now, they were preparing for another battle and Loki had no doubts they would succeed in driving the Jötuns back to where they came from.

He himself had spent the last forty-eight hours using his seidr and all he had learned from handling the Tesseract to locate the pathway he needed to reach Jötunheim—with success, of course. Now all he had had to do was wait for the right moment. He would leave tonight.

Loki looked up, alarmed, when he heard your quiet whimper. You were frowning in your sleep, your lips slightly parted and your fists clutching at the white bed sheets. His hand came up almost immediately to stroke your head soothingly while you pressed your legs together as if in a desperate attempt to stop someone from prying them apart forcefully.

You were dreaming. A nightmare. Behind him, the bleeping of the machine he could not name increased.

Loki shushed you, holding your hand firmly but gently.

Oh, how much he bathed in the chivalry and pride his chest was filled with now that he had saved you, a defenceless damsel in distress. You were all his. He doubted you would ever raise your voice against him once you had regained your strength. It made him feel _good_ to care for you—and that feeling was so foreign and strange he wanted, no, _needed_ it to stop. It made him vulnerable, uncontrollable inside. One of his best traits was it to hide his fear, hide his emotions while they tore him apart inside out and now… all thanks to a little mortal his composure was going out of the window? He could not let that happen, now could he?

Loki sighed, closing his eyes. Your heartbeat was still rapid. Glancing down at you compassionately, he covered your forehead with his palm and cast a simple spell that would scare the nightmare away.

Was it his mother, perhaps, who had sent you to him to unfreeze his tainted heart? She would know what to do, what to do with those confusing feelings. He snorted quietly. He had spent the last two days at your _bedside_ , refusing to leave you and he hardly even knew you. By the Norns, he did not even know your name. Either way, this was more than lust. Loki longed to remove those white bed sheets, lift the hideous gown the doctors had put you in and bury his length deep inside your core… he thought about it. Every day, every night—and yet he also wished to cradle you in his arms and comfort you like you had let him in the quinjet.

He had no idea trust could feel so good.

The door opened soon after your breathing had finally normalised again. Agent Hill appeared in the threshold, crossing her arms defiantly.

“What have you found?” He started without greeting him. She only rolled her eyes in response. “Now?”

“Her fingerprints didn’t match any of our records so we sent them to our associates in Iceland. Her name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), (Y/A) old and only survivor of a pretty small family. Both her mother and brother were killed in the Jötun attack.”

Loki pursed his lips. (Y/N)… the name suited you. You were young—younger compared to him, anyway—and you were all alone. Once you woke up… there was no one left for you. No one but him. His heart skipped a beat.

Eventually, he nodded. “There is something I have to take care of. If she wakes, you call me _immediately._ Thor will know what to do.”

Agent Hill opened her mouth to object but before she had a chance to utter even a word, Loki had already rushed out of your room.

 

Jötunheim was as repulsive as he remembered it. Cold, drab and sordid, the ice crawled towards the landscape, snow covering every inch of the frozen ground. It was awfully quiet when he set one foot in front of the other.

Last time he was here Thor had slaughtered at least two hundred Jötuns and nearly gotten them all killed. Granted, Loki had played his part in that but it was his oaf of a brother who had ended Odin’s peace treaty with his sworn enemy. One of his sworn enemies, anyway.

He could feel their presence, they were close. Smirking triumphantly despite the hatred and disgust spreading in his guts, he moved closer and cloaked himself with his seidr. They were many. The amount of Frost Giants who had invaded Earth was ridiculously little compared to the amount that was still hiding out here in Jötunheim.

Tilting his head, Loki stepped closer and took a determined breath. It was time to demand answers.

“It is a rather cold night, is it not?”

The Frost Giant next to him jumped when he revealed himself with his hands clasped behind his back calmly, a dagger made entirely of ice materialising in his hands.

“Now, now… there is no need for violence. I merely came to talk. Where is your leader? Surely, you must have one.”

“To talk? You have come a long way to talk. A long way to die.” Another Jötun suddenly spoke up. It was the moment Loki drew all the attention to himself. Soon, he was surrounded by vicious Frost Giants all of which were only all too happy to drive their swords and daggers right into his heart.

“Your threats are getting old, I am hardly impressed.”

“Do not flatter yourself, _Asgardian_.”

“Traitor of our blood.” Another whispered. Loki smirked once more. If only they knew he had killed their king himself. It was going well. Thus far, no one had attempted to strike. He would have to work with the small pleasures.

“Traitor? Hardly.”

“No? And where have you been all this time? Hiding away, with _Odin_ , with the slayer of the realms, our mortal enemy!”

“Ah… but you seem to be forgetting I was taken as an infant, during the end of a long and brutal war. My true heritage was kept from me until the day my witless brother Thor started a reckless brawl in your home.” He paused, lifting his chin. “Be it as it may. I came with a… proposition.”

The Frost Giant snorted.

“Last time you said this, our king was killed.”

“Last time the Alfather was still alive.” Loki argued, his smirk never faltering. “Would I offer to return as your king and help this place to bloom again if I had sworn my alliance to _him_? Why would you take meagre Midgard instead?”

“You failed our people once, Laufeyson.”

“I never failed you.” He snapped. “I _was_ failed. Why Midgard?”

The Frost Giant shrugged. “Our population is shrinking. Our realm on the brink of destruction.” _Ah…_ an act of desperation then?

“What did you do to (Y/N)?”

“Who?”

“The young woman we found in one of your so-called ice palaces in Iceland. She was half frozen, her body had been altered with Jötun blood.”

The Frost Giant frowned, dismissing his reproach with a wave of his hand.

“Her? A failed attempt to turn and make her one of us… a shame… a plaything at most.”

“I see…” Loki gnashed his teeth, reminding himself to keep his composure and not lash out at them. “You are trying to build an army. Populate the Earth with your kind.”

“ _Our_ kind. You are one of us, Laufeyson.”

Loki glared at him.

“Why not let more Frost Giants enter the planet through the wormhole you found?”

“They die. Not all of us are still strong enough travel through space and time.”

The God of Mischief shook his head slowly. “You are wasting your time and your warriors. Midgard is well protected. They know how to defend themselves.”

“They seem to have been fairly successful thus far.”

“That was _before_ you alarmed the Avengers.” He interrupted him sharply.

“Ah yes. We have heard of them. We will kill them.”

It was then Loki’s smirk returned. A small gesture giving away his growing impatience.

“More powerful beings than yourself have attempted to do so and they all failed.” He glanced up strictly, his blue eyes glistening scornfully. If looks could kill, Loki would have returned to Earth a murderer. “What is it that you desire? A new hope for your… _our_ race? A new leader with power and knowledge?”

The Frost Giant was boiling. Clenching his fists, sharp and deadly ice forming in his hands.

“All that I can give you. Leave Midgard and avoid bloodshed and I will offer you peace.” There was a moment of eerie silence.

“We decline.”

Loki’s eyes widened when he lunged out at him, aiming to slash his chest. The cold blade went right through him, making his illusion flicker and disappear. He growled when the Jötuns screamed upon realising they had been fooled but had already stepped through the pathway before they could figure out where he had been hiding.


	7. Chapter 7

“Mr Loki…”

“What?” He spat. He had only returned less than a minute ago, his feet still sore from the cold. Now as a Frost Giant, the temperature should not bother him—it did not. It was the sudden warmth surrounding him again which made him weary. An effect he did not appreciate.

He needed time to think about what he had found out, time to figure out a new plan and strategy. Loki was always one step ahead. Until the bitter end, not even Thanos had stood a chance against his trickery.

Therefore, he was not going to tell Thor or the Avengers how his lovely encounter with his own people had gone as of yet.

“It’s… it’s about Ms (Y/L/N)…”

Instantly, he spun around, facing one of the doctors—the one who had dared contradict him a few days back.

“Is she well? What is it?”

“We believe she is… um, waking up and—“ He did not wait for him to finish his assumptions. Taking a deep breath, he rushed past him, hurrying back to your room. He could tell how you flinched when he burst through the door. You were stirring. The doctor had been right.

Ignoring, the other medical in the room, Loki hurried to your side and sat down on the stool next to your bed.

He smirked when you squinted, your tiny fists—compared to his anyway—clenching. The light in this white room was way too bright. It took you a moment to get used to it and then, as you finally opened your eyes, your sleepy gaze met his, relief and joy washing over his body unlike he had ever felt it before. You waking up was a good sign, it was a _very_ good sign… and it made him hope that your body had defeated the vicious Jötun blood in your veins for good.

“Good morning, my dear.” He heard himself say gently.

“L-Loki?”

“Shh… don’t try to speak just yet.”

You longed to ask him what had happened, where you were and why there was a doctor standing in the corner, watching you intently. But Loki was right. Your throat was dry and itchy, burning even and your body… your body was so weak you felt it would take another few days for you to regain your strength. You were hungry though. Hungry and thirsty… your muscles were screaming for nutrition.

“Get her something to eat.” He suddenly ordered as if he had read your mind, without looking away once.

“We know the drill, Mr Loki. My colleague is on his way. Some mashed potatoes, cooked vegetables and beef is a very nurturing—“

Loki frowned. “Have you lost your minds? She cannot eat _that_.”

“But…” You whimpered. You _wanted_ to. Those doctors, whoever they were, would give it to you for free, for you to get _better_ and now Loki… Loki, the very man who had saved your life, your _king_ , was going to take it away from you? Perhaps now that you were awake he would call in his favours for keeping you alive after all.

“No,” He replied sharply, shooting him a strict glance. “Get her soup. Something rich with vitamins and as hot as she can take it. Her stomach is not used to solid food. It will take you time to recover, little dove.” He added a little gentler when he turned his head back to you. _Oh._ Biting your lower lip, you forced yourself to ignore the sting of remorse in your stomach.

“Very well…” The doctor mumbled. He seemed to add something inaudible when he left the room, something which dangerously sounded like insults directed at Loki. For his sake, you hoped the God of Mischief would choose to overhear them. You would not like to witness murder or torture again this soon. Would he do it? Punish mindlessly like the other Frost Giants had done? For some reason… you thought he would not. And you did not pull away when he brought up his hand to softly stroke your hair.

“My king…”

Loki shushed you again, alas his heart skipped a beat upon being addressed like that. He _could_ get used to it… and it scared him that he considered keeping you submissive and anxious to be able to do so.

“There will be enough time to talk, my dove. I am afraid I am not the only one who has questions for you… but not until you feel better, yes?”

Obediently, you nodded, your eyes falling shut again for a brief moment. It was only then he realised that the red tint in the colour of your irises had disappeared.

 

Loki had tried keeping your awakening a secret for the time being but of course, those absurd excuses for doctors had informed the Avengers straight away. They were itching to bombard you with their questions which you would most likely be unable to answer.

The Jötuns had not exactly sounded like they had involved you in their war plans. On the other hand, he had to admit that it was worth a try. Slaves, back on Asgard, had always known a lot more than they had let on too.

Two days after, your ability to speak properly returned fully without harming your throat. You had stopped shivering completely and thankfully accepted the warm pullover one of the doctors had brought you in Loki’s absence. The hospital gown you were forced to wear underneath, however, you were to keep on… and after all the sweating at night when Loki insisted on the use of the heating blanket, you felt disgusting—not to mention your greasy hair.

“How are you feeling?” Loki’s voice was incredibly stern when he spoke up, making you flinch slightly. He moved with such grace and so quietly you _never_ noticed his appearance until he made you aware of it.

“A lot better, my king, thank you.” You were on the verge of finishing your soup, for he still did not allow you any solid food. You obeyed. After all, he had saved your life. He would know what was best. You… trusted him, despite your fears still residing deep within you.

Loki had promised he would not lay a hand on you. Part of you believed that. The other, anxious and terrified part that had lived a living hell with cruel Jötuns feared he might have lied to you—and that one night, he would strike. But with every day that passed… the voice telling you to run and save yourself went quieter and quieter. What grew instead was throbbing affection which made you want to be with him, day in and out. This wasn’t Stockholm Syndrome. Loki had not kidnapped you, after all. No… quite on the contrary, he had saved you from capture. The more time you spent with him, the more you longed to taste his lips, to wrap your arms around his body and seek his comfort like you had when he had carried you into the bathroom… even if he had thus far rarely spoken to let you recover properly. Today finally seemed different.

“Are you experiencing any abnormal heat? Any pain?”

“No… no, I don’t think so. I tend to get very hot at night though… I’m… really sweaty.”

“We can have a nurse come over to help you take a shower. I would also suggest a gynaecologist to check on her. I am not authorised nor trained to do it myself.” The doctor interrupted.

Your eyes widened. You did _not_ want a stranger to look at your vagina. With Loki, it was different. He had touched you down there before. Another female doctor… how would she ever come to understand what you had been through? What if you had taken permanent damage? What if you could no longer conceive? If that was the case, you did not want to know.

“That is nothing I could not achieve with my seidr without having to penetrate her with metal tools.” Loki retorted. “As for the nurse…” His blue gaze met yours, questioningly. Slowly, you shook your head. “I believe that will not be necessary either.”

“Fine then… she is your responsibility, Mr Loki. If she dies because of some internal injuries that could have been detected and treated, her blood will be on your hands. And before I forget it… Mr Stark and the others will be paying you a visit today, Ms (Y/L/N). I believe they have some questions for you.”

With a nod, the doctor left the room, eliciting a relieved sigh from you. Slowly, Loki approached you.

“Would you like me to wash you again, my dove? As much as I dislike to admit it, the healer was right. Now that you are feeling better, I shall use a spell to make sure your birth canal is intact.” He spoke matter-of-factly. He should have thought of this earlier. There were no grave injuries, that he had made sure of already of course… but it would do no harm to check.

Loki smirked when you nodded and allowed him to remove the covers to lift you up and carry you over to the bathroom. Carefully, he removed your hospital gown, sat you into the bathtub and turned on the water faucet, his seidr immediately manipulating the temperature for you.

“Now… I will have to touch a little more intimately for this spell to work, little dove.” He warned you hoarsely. Looking up at him innocently, you nodded once more, surprised by how he was giving you a chance to object.

Hungrily, he eyed you down, his glance lingering on your breasts and your inviting cunt. Thus far, Loki truly was proud of himself, for he had kept his promise. He wanted to ravish you there and then and sheath himself deep inside you, right here in the bathtub. _No._ Touching you would have to suffice.

Focusing on the spell, he dipped his right hand underwater and gently parted your legs, suppressing a gasp when you let them fall open without any resistance.

“I don’t know how I could help them,” you suddenly chirped. “I know nothing. There are no questions I could answer for them. They only told me they meant to subjugate this planet and drown it in ice… and they told me that their rightful king, you, your highness, had abandoned them. Will they throw me out once they realise I am useless to them?”

“ _Nobody_ will throw you out unless they wish to go through me first.” He replied growling, making you all warm and fuzzy inside… or was it his hand resting on top of your folds, gently stroking the sensitive skin?

It felt… good, an involuntary moan escaping you when he parted your lips and began to explore your entrance all the while letting his seidr ripple through your body.

How far would he go? Would he penetrate you with his digits and feel for himself what you had to offer? Would he bring you _pleasure_ even? Your arousal did not go unnoticed, your growing wetness covering his fingers. Almost ashamed by your intense reaction to the God of Mischief’s touches, you squeezed your eyes shut.

Was it… _right_ to have these sensations? You had been violated so much in the past letting a man touch you again now felt both frightening and exciting. Embarrassed, you raided your mind for a distraction.

Loki withdrew his fingers disappointedly. You had some internal bruising but nothing that would not heal over time. Oh, he would have loved to have lingered a little longer and see how far he could have taken his little examination. What it would feel like to make you cum on his fingers, to have you pulse and contract around him repeatedly, your juices gushing from your entrance?

He suppressed a moan when he felt his cock stirring in his leather trousers, demanding attention. _Your_ attention.

“M-my king?”

“Yes, my dove?” He replied absentmindedly.

“You… you told me you were not always… blue, n-not like the other Jötuns. May I… may I know why?”

Loki smiled weakly, bitterly. Whyever would he not? Perhaps you would be the first person to properly listen to his side of the story. Besides, he welcomed the distraction. Reaching for the black wash cloth to help you clean up, he took a deep breath and turned off the water faucet.

“I was adopted, little dove. Odin stole me away from Jötunheim when I was an infant. I grew up on Asgard, as a prince… the prosperity of a throne within my reach. But the Alfather never told me about my true heritage.” He began the tale. “All I ever knew was being the second-born son, living in Thor’s shadow. The day I found out I was a Frost Giant… I meant to show the man I called my father… to prove to him I was as worthy of his recognition and love as my brother _._ ” Only now did he realise that he had never told the story out loud, to no one. “But Odin… he would hear none of it and my desperate attempts to please him resulted in the destruction of the Bifrost. That night, I welcomed death with open arms, little dove. It all came different.” Loki looked away, his mind trapped in a painful memory all the while his fingers caressed your skin, sending pleasant shivers up and down your spine.

“That… that is awful.” You whispered.

_Yes_ , he thought. _It was indeed awful_. He had never described it like that, only ever accepted that fate seemed to want him to never know true love, recognition, affection… at least not until he found you, half-frozen in an abandoned cottage. Your compassion was genuine.

“How can you control your appearance?”

“For a long time I believed Odin or Frigga had cast a spell upon me. But when they both died… now it is nearly impossible to undo the spell of a dead being, yet it was not long after I realised my mother might not even be of Jötun heritage. I do not know her, nor have I ever taken it upon myself to find out. She could be anywhere within the nine realms, or beyond. _If_ she is still alive…”

Loki’s head turned back to you abruptly when you reached for his hand both timidly and reassuring.

“I am so sorry…”

He smirked—a futile attempt to hide the pain glistening in his stunning blue eyes.

“Now… let us dry you off again.” Loki said. He stood, reaching for a soft towel; your eyes following him curiously and grazing your own dishevelled appearance in the mirror, making you gasp.

It was not the fact that Loki had used another spell to maintain your hair… but… perhaps you had only imagined it, for when you blinked, the bright red irises of the young woman returning your gaze were replaced again with the regular colour of your eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

“Is it… normal I am still so… tired? I feel so worn out, like I haven’t slept in days.”

“Your body is still fighting the Jötun blood, it is draining your energy. Yes. It is normal.” Loki responded matter-of-factly, gently stroking your hair in the process. You had allowed Loki to lift you up and dry you off before carrying you back to your room.

It felt strange. Not once since you had arrived at the compound had you feared Loki’s touch. Loki’s _intimate_ touch. You pondered, concerned, if he had done this before. If he had come this close to a woman’s most intimate parts without initiating sex… if it affected him. But then again… the first time he had undressed you, you had not failed to notice the raw lust in his blue eyes. Loki was a man, after all. He was a Frost Giant and he was in charge. Despite his gentleness, you felt devoted, submissive to him, whether it came from the cruel treatment you had endured with the Jötuns or not.

Either way, you knew it would take you a while longer to warm up to him and speak your mind freely. Now that you knew you were recovering, you suddenly longed to be his equal, longed to be desirable to him. As of now, he was your king. The more time you spent with your saviour though, the more you cared for him… the more you wished for him to be so much more.

 

Loki sighed when your eyes fell shut again and you were about to drift off to a peaceful sleep. What was he thinking? Touching you like this, _again._ Part of him, so knew, was bathing in your vulnerability, your helplessness. The other more decent part, the part none other than Frigga had raised, urged his cheeks to turn bright red. What _was_ wrong with him? He was a grown man. In the past, he had had sex more than his mother could have anticipated and he would be safe to claim he was even more experienced than his brother. His sexual needs had always had this… _darker_ tone to them.

Loki wanted submission, he wanted devotion and through that, he wanted unconditional love and trust. All that… he had now found in this terrified and half-frozen girl he had rescued from his own race. Who was he kidding? Himself? For too long he had struggled to understand himself, to comprehend that never dying pain within his tormented heart, wondering what it was he had done wrong to earn himself suspicion, rejection and mistrust—before he came to Earth under Thanos’ spine-crawling threats.

But he knew he wanted you. There. He had thought it, his mind slowly wrapping his head around it. Were you the one, perhaps? He did not know. But he was willing to try, willing to accept fate might have given him a chance for someone to desire him despite his flaws and despite his past. This was a _chance_ , so he finally realised. Would you say yes to a walk in the garden once you had recovered, he wondered? He had often taken the young women he had courted to the palace gardens and impressed them with his vast knowledge of rare flowers and their spiritual and healing capabilities—all of which old books and Frigga had taught him.

Loki flinched for your sake when someone burst through the door. Muscles flexing and hammer in hand, Thor was panting in the threshold. Your eyes flew open, alarmed and ready to hide from any pain about to be inflicted on you. He sighed quietly. It would take you _quite_ a while longer to adjust to the world again. Besides, he would _never_ allow _anyone_ to _ever_ lay a hand on you _again._

“Loki, we need you to come downstairs right now.” Thor began slowly—and whenever the God of Thunder spoke slowly, he was panicking. This much Loki knew.

Your eyes widened. Something was amiss. Uncertainly, you gazed up at Loki, for the first time initiating body contact yourself and reaching for his forearm to squeeze it gently.

“My king…” Thor raised his eyebrows but said nothing at first.

“Loki, _now!_ ” He thundered then, panicking slightly and making his opposite frown. Reluctantly, he left your side and followed his adopted brother out of the room, the tips of his fingers already tingling with seidr which he was ready to fling at whatever endangered him… or _you._

“Loki… why does she still call you her king?” Thor roared reproachfully as they practically clattered down the stairs. The God of Mischief rolled his eyes.

“For once, I am innocent. I have told you what she was taught in the Jötuns’ grip. (Y/N) is afraid of addressing me differently, to not disrespect me to earn her violence or punishment.”

“And you have told her she has nothing to fear and may call you Loki?” No. He had not. But not because Thor’s words were untrue. It was because he _enjoyed_ how you practically lay your life in his hands.

He sighed. “What is the matter, Thor?”

“FRIDAY gave the alarm. There is an intruder. Loki. It’s a Jötun.”

For just a split second, Loki froze, stopping dead in his tracks. In his mind, he formed arguments already, ways to defend himself. It was an old habit, really. He was used to taking the blame. He might as well fight back now—whatever they were going to throw at him.

“Send someone upstairs and make sure (Y/N) does not get hurt.” He highly doubted that they had come back to get rid of their mistake and finish what they had started. Still, he was not going to risk it. “Do it, Thor.”

With that, he pushed past him and hurried outside. The Avengers all stood in a half circle, weapons drawn and on high alert, ready to fight, their scrutinising glances fixed on the blue creature in front of them.

The Frost Giant remained silent, though his eyebrows did rise slightly when he spotted Loki approaching the group.

“What do you want?” He asked without further ado, ready to replace himself with an illusion in case of an attack.

“I came to warn you, Laufeyson.”

Loki frowned. He could feel the Avengers’ perusing glare on him, curious and suspicious about his next move. None of them opened their mouths yet to intervene.

Loki lifted his chin proudly, arrogance dripping from his voice when he spoke again. “What have we to fear?”

“My leaders are planning an attack. Dozens of us, all coming for you, _Avengers._ ”

“Without the casket, you will not stand a chance.” Thor roared, having just appeared behind Loki again. He gave Loki a brief look. “Clint stayed with the girl. She will be safe.”

The Frost Giant chuckled coldly when he nodded. “We have grown as much as you have, _Odinson._ ”

_Perhaps_ , Loki thought. Only the Jötuns had done exactly what the God of Mischief had predicted—what he had tricked them into. Their pride had been their death sentence before, if anything to not appear like cowards.

The Avengers had taken the war to where they wanted for it to take place. Here, they had an advantage. In a warm area, more than only dozens would be needed to pose a threat to the superheroes. At least, that’s what he hoped.

Loki sighed once more. He was beginning to realise the Jötun in front of him was indeed no threat, even if the Avengers did not believe so as of yet.

“Why would you help us?” Natasha added. She was ready to strike. In fact, she was _longing_ to strike. “He could be the distraction.”

“Not all of us think invading Midgard is a wise idea. We failed once, centuries ago. Odin might have perished and Asgard might have been destroyed but our species is weakened. Even if we succeed in killing any oncoming resistance, we could never resettle our entire race to Midgard. My leaders fail to see that… which is why I am here.”

“I say we smash him.” Hulk said.

This time, the Jötun scoffed. “I did not come here to fight!”

“Then how do your people know of us?” Tony shouted.

“Loki Laufeyson told them.”

The God of Mischief bared his teeth. Of course this would be his fault now. They should rather thank him. Many enemies, him included, had underestimated the Avengers’ power before. It would be over soon if they started an attempt to wipe them out for good and claim Midgard as their new home.

“He’s telling the truth,” A quiet voice suddenly interrupted. Several heads turned to face you. You were leaning against a pillar, your nails digging into the white marble. “I… I know him. He was… one of the few warriors who never lay a hand on me. He brought me a blanket, and any edible food he could find when the others didn’t pay any attention.” Your voice had become louder, clearer. You were indeed recovering.

When Clint had appeared in your room and told you about the dicey situation downstairs, you had jumped up so fast your vision had turned black for a moment, wanting to witness the terrors unfolding. It would be ridiculous to think that in your current condition, you could help Loki if need be and yet…

“You lived.” The Frost Giant stated. “I am pleased to see that.”

Loki took a threatening step forward. _Don’t you dare come near her._ The danger radiated off of him like singeing heat.

“You said they would attack. When? How?” Tony asked. His voice sounded strange, you figured, when he wore his iron suit.

“Soon… they are preparing themselves. Your metal armour will be no match for our ice.”

“Let that be my concern.”

The Frost Giant scoffed in response. Then, he disappeared, an ice cold cloud of tiny little ice crystals surrounding the spot on which he had been standing on mere seconds ago. They all took a moment to realise what this meant.

“Great. Reindeer Games did it again. How exactly are we gonna fight an army of icicles, Loki?!”

“You ought to thank me. You heard him yourself. Their species…”—he put special emphasis on _their_ —“…is _weakened._ Countless of their warriors failed to even make it through the wormhole without perishing in the process. They cannot afford attacking more than once. They will put all of their strength in one onslaught only.”

“And then what? I don’t think they’ll say ‘oopsy daisy’ and go back to wherever the hell they came from.” Tony intervened.

He had a point. While it would be effective to let them attack at once, they would soon gather in Jötunheim to start another attempt. So he nodded.

“Is there a way to destroy the wormhole? We cannot destroy an entire race.” Thor said. Loki rolled his eyes. As if the Thunderer had not tried that before himself.

“A way to seal it,” Tony added. “What about Strange, could he do it?”

Loki frowned. He would be insulted if he didn’t know better. _Doctor Strange_ , that mortal amateur wizard? On the other hand… if Strange did take on the task, he would have one problem less to worry about—and he could instead focus his energy on you. Finally, his gaze met yours.

“You should be in bed,” he said reproachfully.

“Sorry. She’s faster than she looks.” Clint added when Loki shot him a warning glance.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

“I’m so sorry… I just thought… _argh._ ” It felt like your words got stuck in your throat when a terrible hot flush suddenly washed over your body. Your blood was boiling—you could practically feel it. With a start, cramps rippled through you, your knees no longer supporting you. Loki caught you so fast Clint barely managed to blink.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you did your best to control your breathing. You were panting as if you had run a marathon, sweating like you had been wandering about in the desert. Your clothes were soaked.

Loki’s cool touch on your upper arm and neck was comfortable, soothing. His body temperature calming your singeing veins and skin. You never noticed how the Avengers rushed to action once the God of Mischief had scooped you up into his arms, ready to do the hero-thing and help. Loki ushered them away quickly. Your condition was bad as is.

“(Y/N)… look at me, little dove.”

Whimpering, you did as you were told, pressing yourself closer to his cool body. Loki gasped when your eyes locked with his. He pressed his lips together to a thin line when he carried you back upstairs and into your bed so fast you felt a little dizzy. He barked orders to the doctors who had just arrived out of breath to come to your aid, alerted by FRIDAY. Their voices were too dull to understand what he was saying, only a few minutes later, however, you suddenly felt the wet coolness of moist towels on your arms, chest and legs to regulate your body temperature. Moments later, you drifted into unconsciousness.

 

He had been wrong. He had hoped to have cured you. Hoped to have overcome the atrocity the Jötuns had contaminated your body with. You had complained about being warm at night but never had he suspected… your eyes had been _blood red_ when you looked up at him, so innocently and afraid. Not afraid of him but afraid of what was happening to you.

There was only one logical explanation. Your human body _had_ fought the Jötun blood—it had, with his help, prevented you from freezing to death—but only to some extent. Instead, your own blood had connected with it… it had made you part-Frost Giant.

Loki hated to admit that he did not know what that meant. _He_ was a god, his anatomy way beyond the capabilities of yours. Would you survive it? How would you live on? There must have been a way for you to adjust to the heat in your environment… besides, once you were back in Iceland… Loki sighed. He was not ready to let you leave just yet. In fact, he was not ready to let you leave him _ever._

He stayed by your side for a while longer, making sure you were as comfortable as possible. When the sun disappeared behind the horizon and the room slowly but inevitably grew darker and darker, he finally stood and made his way to Stark’s library.

The billionaire, despite his indifference about books, did own a remarkable amount. Surely one of them could help him… because if there was anything he could do to make your suffering which tore his own heart apart, easier, he would ensure not to let an opportunity slip through his grasp.

Loki had not quite wrapped his head around it yet. You were part _Jötun_ —you were like _him._ Now you did not turn blue as of yet but he wondered, if your skin came into contact with ice… and it was in that moment he realised he had developed serious feelings for you—feelings that went beyond sexual lust, like he had assumed before. It felt strange to admit that even to himself but what he saw now wasn’t just the possibility of passionate love, appreciation and deep respect—effects of a hot fling… it was more of a chance now than it was ever before.

He would not reject you. He would not lead you to believe all Frost Giants were monsters. You had come to accept him despite his Jötun heritage—but that might partially be because of his fairly normal appearance and your never-dying fear as a consequence of your abduction. You had not seen him in his true form as of yet. He dreaded your reaction.

The Jötuns had made sure to prove themselves the crude villains. It was on him to convince you otherwise—that there was a way to live with yourself in spite of the Jötun blood running through your veins.

“Brother?”

Loki flinched when he heard Thor’s voice thundering through the library. He had been so lost in thought he hadn’t even heard a presence approaching. He really was losing his touch with all his sorrows about the woman he l… about the woman he had begun to care about.

Shutting the book he was holding with a loud _thump_ , he turned around. Thor was wearing those casual Midgardian clothes again, his hammer nowhere in sight.

“Can we speak?”

Loki sighed and put it back on the shelf. It was most unhelpful. He might as well play along and _speak._ It was not often Thor switched to Old Norse for it. “We already are,” he said, speaking the dead language himself now.

“Good. What happened to (Y/N) today?” He began outright. “Is she… dying?”

“No,” His voice was quiet when he answered. “It appears that her body did not reject the Jötun blood the way I expected it to.”

Thor frowned. “What do you mean?” Loki waited for a moment before he replied.

“It means the blood has turned her half-Jötun.”

“Will she… survive that?”

“I believe so. But it will take me a while to understand her new anatomy. Those hot flushes can mean no good.”

Thor nodded. Then, with a start, a cheeky smile grew on his face.

“You care about her. It is obvious, brother. And it’s why I came to see you. You are concerned about (Y/N)’s well-being, are you not? I have never seen you like this.”

Loki glared at him.

“There is no shame in that, Loki.”

“I _don’t_ feel ashamed.” He snapped. Truth was he did not know how to deal with his feelings. Nobody in the nine realms, after all, had ever laid their life into his hands like you had.

“Admit it then.”

“I do. For Valhalla’s sake, Thor, _yes_ , I care about her. Is that what you want to hear?”

 

Your heart jumped. He… did he reciprocate your feelings? When you had woken up, with now dry towels on your limbs, Loki was gone. It felt like his presence was missing, like you could not function without him.

Your legs were still a little shaky from your stroke or whatever it had been that made Loki look at you so full of sorrow and pain—but you were strong enough to leave your room to find him. In the compound, it was dark already. You presumed most of the Avengers had gone to sleep already, for the sun was long gone.

Soon, you reached a huge metal double door, opened just a smidge through which a small beam of light illuminated the floor to your feet. You were about to open it when you heard two familiar voices speaking in a foreign language which seemed not so foreign at all. Thor and Loki, were they speaking… _Old Norse?_

To claim you understood their every word would have been a lie. Being a native Icelandic speaker, however, the bits you did pick up and comprehended made your heart beat faster than it had when your hot flush had taken control of your body.

Biting your lower lip, you pressed your ear against the metal door. That’s when you heard it. You were no mere toy. You were no nameless and faceless subject, not to him, not to your _king._ Loki genuinely cared about you.

“What are you doing here?” Your eyes widened in the dark. How could she even see you? You swallowed when you turned on your heel. Natasha had crossed her arms, an eyebrow raised.

“I… I heard Loki’s voice, I…”

“He—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—specifically gave us the order for you to stay in bed. You were awfully pale when you broke down outside today. You really should go back to bed.”

She did not tell you a moment too soon. The talking in the library stopped, replaced by loud and determined footsteps. The door opened, the sudden bright light making you squint—and then you saw Loki and Thor standing right before you.

You feared he would scold you now for leaving your bed again—but instead, and much to Natasha’s surprise, he gently touched your forehead and looked you straight in the eye.

“How are you feeling?”

“O-okay… but way too warm. It… burns.”

Loki pursed his lips and sighed. “Come on. Back to bed.” He took your arm, dragging you with him firmly but tenderly. Apologetically, you gave Thor and Natasha a weak smile before you disappeared around the corner.

Loki knew you were tired. As soon as he had closed the door to your room behind you two, he pulled you into his arms, hugging you so intimately you gasped for air.

“Let me get you some fresh towels.”

“That’s not enough, it grows warm too fast… please… can you just keep holding me?”

For a moment, he remained still. He knew he was cool to the touch, especially for you. His hand slid down the small of your back. He had changed your clothes before he left. With dismay he found you had soaked the fresh shirt with sweat as well. You were right. The towels would not do—and as of yet, he was unsure how much agony you were being put through with the heat around you, usually fully bearable to humans. But perhaps… perhaps there was one other way. He swallowed bravely. He… might ruin everything.

“Lie down.” He commanded quietly, pushing you away from his chest reluctantly.

“Will you stay with me, my king?”

“Loki,” he said, his soft gaze meeting yours. “Yes, I will.”

You nodded, if anything in obedience. _Loki._ You _did_ like his name. As fast as your mangled limbs allowed it, you crawled back in bed and allowed the God of Mischief to join you. You did not object when he removed your wet shirt and tossed it out of bed, leaving your naked breasts on display for him in the pale moonlight—nor could you avert your eyes when he removed his own shirt to reveal a well-defined and rather pale chest.

He sighed, a barely visible smile playing on his thin lips… then he pulled you back into his arms, pressing you against him. It took your nipples only a few second to harden and react to his touch, your body enjoying the intimate skin on skin contact. You gasped when he grew colder and colder, his breathing growing heavier.

He was blue. Blue, with blood red eyes resembling yours when you had looked in the mirror in the bathroom. You could feel the ridges on his skin, complicated patterns all over his chest which you longed to trace with your fingertips. You had always thought all Frost Giants were atrocious, repulsive. But Loki… Loki was…

“You are beautiful…” You whispered, inching even closer to him. Snuggling up to his chest and burying your face in his neck, you wrapped your legs around his and closed your eyes, enjoying the coldness of his skin. Unlike only a short while ago, when you had detested the cold and the ice, you now welcomed it with open arms.


	9. Chapter 9

_You are beautiful._ Loki clenched his fists, grunting when it collided with the heavy punch bag. _You are beautiful._ He lunged again. All his life he had been taught he was a monster, that he was evil and foul—even by those who claimed to love him. _You are beautiful._ Loki preferred fighting with his daggers and let his minds do the tricks to fool his enemies into involuntarily granting his victory. But today, the boiling energy surging within him needed a valve. It would do no harm to train the physical strength in his arms and legs by kicking a lifeless punch bag as opposed to tall Frost Giants with grotesque faces.

_You are beautiful._ You were positively the first being in his life calling him so. He had ceased to believe it was fear or reverence, even though your devoted energy still radiated off of you whenever he moved into your personal space. You were as infatuated with him as he was with you, there was no denying it. He could only hope you understood he would make sure not to dishearten you.

Centuries ago, he had taken on the role of a wicked witch, a selfish Trickster with only his own well-being in mind. After all the disappointment in his life, all the hostility and all the hatred, it had taken him longer than he wished to admit that he had tried for too long to earn himself approval and recognition, even affection. He had stopped bending his own will for people to like him.

Only _you_ … you were worth the effort. He wanted to prove to you that he was worthy of your love. He would not disappoint you. And Loki had certainly never felt this way before.

 

* * *

 

 

You were bedridden for three more days. Three long and excruciating days during which you longed to scream at the world and curse your own body to damnation as it fought against your mind. Your thoughts were strong but your limbs were weak. Loki had performed a spell to stop those terrible heat waves from breaking out at night to soothe your half-frozen, half boiling blood, yet it did not stop him from keeping you company until you had fallen asleep, listening to his breathing and his calm heartbeat.

One night, he even fell asleep before you. His stunning blue eyes fell shut, his arm around your shoulders as he drifted off to dreamland. The touching moment made you brave. You leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to his cheek before following him into slumber.

They all were preparing. Preparing to fight. The Jötuns could attack any minute, ready to wipe out not only the Avengers but all warmth on the planet… and the hostility Loki was obviously met with did not exactly diffuse the tension.

You bit your lower lip as you sneaked into the vast training room. You were small enough for Spiderman’s clothes to fit you, the hoodie you were wearing slightly over-sized and hiding your curves and part of your hands even if you would have preferred running around in a bikini to fight off the heat.

_Part Frost Giant…_ it had taken you time to digest what the Jötuns had made of you. You were… of a different _species_ now—and quite frankly, you had no idea what that meant. You were dependant on Loki to care for you. Alone… alone you might die.

The Trickster God was on his own, ferociously attacking one of the battered punch bags with clenched fists. Beneath his leather armour, you could see his muscles flexing and tensing, his rapid breathing sending heat waves through your body. But this kind of heat… was welcoming. It pooled right between your legs, every cell in your body being pulled toward him like a piece of metal unable to resist a magnet.

It did not take him long to notice your presence. You admired his powers, his strength and his senses. Would you be stronger too now, with the Jötun blood flowing through your veins? Would you live longer and hear and see better than humans did?

Loki paused seconds before landing the next punch. He lifted his head, turning around slowly to face you. His blue eyes roamed over your entire form before he locked his scrutinising gaze with yours. Your heart skipped a beat when a barely visible smile grew on his face.

You were scared for him. You knew the Frost Giants to be ruthless and cruel and he was, as of right now, preparing to go to war against them. What if he got killed? If he left you behind? You did not dare think about any possible outcome. Even if they won… what would happen to you? Sooner or later… would you move on with your life? Would that be possible after all the agony fate had forced you through?

“Is there… can I help somehow?” You croaked out weakly, taking a few timid steps forward.

Loki’s smile faltered. The only way you could help right now was if you turned on your heel and left, lest he could not pounce on you like a wild animal in heat. Now that you were feeling better, he longed to bury his fingers between your legs yet again, this time not stopping when things got… _interesting._ Frigga had never told him that love could be such a distraction, such a burden when in midst of battle. But perhaps it was her who had sent you to him in the most twisted way possible, someone to keep him company and mend his broken heart.

_Love._ Was it really love? _Real_ love? His heart was a wicked mixture of mischief and ice. Until you came along, desperate and in need of his help. Your initial fear of him had not been based on stories and myths but a trauma you had been unable to escape from. Your trust in him had melted the ice around his tainted heart. Loki did not know if it was true love yet. But he knew that he wanted you to be _his_.

“It’s just… I’m worried for you. What if… what happens if…”

“I am their rightful king, my dove. They might detest my upbringing but they will not dare kill me. I have made sure of that.” He said calmly. “Do you doubt me?”

It was a playful question, for he knew of course that you never would. Loki had shown you nothing but kindness since your first encounter back in the abandoned cottage in Iceland. More than once, you had suspected him wrongly and you had regretted it dearly.

“No,” Yet the question remained. After this battle… where would he go? Surely, the God of Mischief would not want to stay with the Avengers forever. Perhaps he would leave Midgard altogether. As the rightful king of Jötunheim… perhaps he would sooner or later settle down in the realm that belonged to him.

“Have you… have you been to Jötunheim before? A-after you were being taken, I mean.” You asked. He was standing right in front of you now, his hands clasped behind his back.

Loki took a breath. “I have… and not just once.”

“What is it like?”

“Grim. Cold and dead. I take no pride in the realm I was born in.”

“I think it could be beautiful too. Imagine a world made of ice.” Winters in Iceland were prodigious and in your mind, you saw a planet where it was winter all year long. Where beautiful ice flowers would grow and magic water would flow despite the cold, where giant ice mountains towered into a dark blue sky and where the many snowflakes would turn the landscape into a dotted paradise.

Your sudden fascination for Jötunheim scared you. Back when you were with the Frost Giants, you could not get away from the cold and the ice fast enough. Now that you were with Loki and he was making sure you did not feel like a repulsive monster… you wished to learn more.

Once again, Loki smiled. He could barely imagine how this soft woman right in front of him could have survived weeks of torture, humiliation and pain. Yet here you were, offering your help to him.

“It’s late,” he said. “You should be in bed.”

“I-I know. I’m sorry, my king.”

“Loki.”

“L-Loki… I…” _I can’t sleep without you?_ How would that sound?

“Go. I will be with you soon.” He interrupted.

Reassured and relieved, you nodded, reciprocating his smile gently before making your way back to the door to obey him.

“(Y/N)…” Your heart skipped a beat when he suddenly spoke your name. You stopped, turning back around.

Determinedly, Loki closed the small distance between you. His hand came up to caress your cheek. Weeks ago, you would have flinched and moved away… now, you leaned into his tender touch, hoping there would be more of it.

He needed to taste your lips, just once! If you did not let him… it would take you time. A kiss would not pose his proclamation of ownership. But it would establish you were _his_ nonetheless. He wanted more than your lust. He wanted your respect, too.

When your lips parted, your eyes wandered down to his mouth, wondering if it would feel as soft as it looked. Your curious gaze was as good as any response.

Smirking mischievously, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, slowly and intimately and briefly. But the explosion between you did not make less of an impact. Your eyes fell shut. Relishing the moment, you brought your hand up to cover Loki’s palm against your cheek, never wanting the kiss to end.

You tasted like more. You tasted like so much more. _In time… patience…_ the last thing he wanted was to scare you away even though he was craving to bury his cock deep inside you, to feel your walls moulding around him and taking all he had to offer. For his body to bring you so much pleasure your back arched, your erect nipples brushing against his chest… and the sweet aftermath. You, in his arms, breathless and covered in sweat, both of you having surrendered to the other.

Loki pulled away reluctantly, his lips ghosting over your other cheek to listen to your rapid breathing.

“Ek elska þik…“ He heard himself murmur absentmindedly, inhaling your scent as he pressed his nose against your neck, face buried in your hair.

Your lips parted, love and affection spreading in your chest. You were afraid to burst, afraid to explode into billions of pink butterflies. Gently, you pushed him away from you, his blue eyes meeting yours.

He must have forgotten—forgotten how similar Icelandic was to the Old Norse language. You had never told him you had understood the heated conversation between him and his brother, after all.

Now, you could not answer him in Old Norse. But you could answer him in Icelandic.

“Loki… Ég held að… ég elska þig líka.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Make sure to head over to my Tumblr for more of my writing! :-)

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go! Obviously, Loki is the real hero here… he always has been, no? ;-) If you enjoyed this chapter, make sure to head over to my Tumblr (@sserpente) for more stories. ♥


End file.
